Secrets In Texas

Angel’s pulse quickened. Jonathon’s study. Probably where he kept important documents. Maybe even something to implicate him in his landlord’s drug and weapons running? Or possibly records confirming young girls were being married off to old goats?

“His study’s here at the house?” she asked.

“Yes. And he has an office in the main administration building.”

Angel filed away that tidbit of knowledge.

Matthew leaned forward. “I’m looking forward to getting reacquainted with my brothers and sisters.”

His statement confused Angel for a moment. Hadn’t he said he only had one sister left? But then she realized he probably had dozens of half sisters and brothers.

Eleanor passed a basket of biscuits. “I’m sure they’re eager to see you, too.”

“Will Uncle Jonathon arrange some kind of get-together?”

“You will have to ask him.”

Angel noted the older women didn’t deny or confirm knowledge of Jonathon’s plans. Interesting.

“If you’d like to take a walk later, I could show you around the settlement.” Ruth’s voice was sweet and shy, but there was a predatory gleam in her eyes. Or was Angel merely jumping to conclusions? She didn’t like the girl. Didn’t trust her. And she’d learned a long time ago to listen to her gut instinct.

“What a lovely offer, Ruth.” Angel forced a smile. “Matthew and I would enjoy having you show us around.”

Angel thought she saw an amused smile twitch at Matthew’s lips, but it was gone so quickly she couldn’t be sure.

“Yes, Angel and I would appreciate that, Ruth. I’ll have to see what my uncle has planned first, though.”

“Of course.”

Matthew commented, “Our accommodation’s quite comfortable. Thank you for giving us a corner room—as newlyweds, we appreciate the privacy. Is anyone in the room next to us?”

“No. It’s used for storage right now.”

Good. That meant they could talk in low voices in their bedroom and not worry about being overheard.

Matthew ate heartily, Angel noted. Eggs, sausage, hash browns, pancakes. Apparently Eleanor had never heard of a Pop-Tart.

“The meal was delicious, Aunt Eleanor.” Matthew wiped his mouth with his napkin.

“Thank you. I always make a hearty breakfast. A man can’t work on an empty stomach.”

Ruth nodded in agreement. Though the girl kept her eyes mostly downcast, Angel still intercepted a few adoring glances sent in Matthew’s direction. She got the distinct impression Ruth would love to cook for Matthew. And attend to a few other wifely duties, too.

Matthew, for his part, seemed oblivious. Glancing at his watch, he said, “Looks like I’ve got a few minutes till the meeting.” He rose, picking up his plate and utensils.

“Ruth will clear,” Aunt Eleanor informed him.

“I can take these to the sink. It’s no trouble.”

“Nonsense. Ruth, take his plate, please.”

The girl complied.

Matthew gave a slight shrug, his expression bland. Apparently, he’d forgotten men in the group were treated like royalty.

He said, “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go get a little fresh air before our meeting with Uncle Jonathon.”

“I’ll come with you.” Angel picked up her plate, figuring nobody would rush to take it from her. She was right.

“Angel, dear, you can stay here and help clean up. You ought to be nice and rested since you slept so late.”

Angel winced inwardly. The woman had essentially called her lazy and done it in such a way that Angel would seem like a paranoid bitch if she called her on it.

“Of course, Aunt Eleanor.” Although she’d meant to sound conciliatory, Angel feared a touch of insincerity had reached her voice.

Eleanor’s mouth thinned. Yes, she’d heard the false note, too. Well, good. Put the old battle-ax on notice that Angel wasn’t a mindless twit to be ordered about.

Matthew grasped her chin with his hand, kissing her tenderly on the lips. At least it probably looked tender. The firmness of his grasp telegraphed a warning: Be good. Don’t cause any trouble.

Funny, she’d received the same warning as a child. Until her parents had realized admonishing her did no good. Angel did what she thought best, and to heck with the consequences.

That was one of the reasons her parents hadn’t investigated when she’d essentially dropped out of their lives. They’d accepted Kent’s excuses when they’d called. And on the few occasions she’d been in the room when Kent told his lies, she’d been too afraid to protest. Too afraid to demand contact with her parents. Because she’d known it would all become twisted into a huge act of disloyalty sure to send Kent into a rage.

“Be good,” Kent murmured. Only it wasn’t Kent. It was Matthew.

Habit and residual survival instinct prodded Angel to nod, her motion jerky. And then she hated herself for reverting to the easily manipulated girl she’d once been.

The urge to tell Matthew off was almost overwhelming. He’d put her in a position of subservience she’d sworn never to allow again. Anything less than being a full partner was dangerous.

She clenched her fists, her fingernails biting into her palm. This was a job, an assignment. It was merely playacting and had nothing to do with her past.

“Yes, Matthew.” She’d tried to achieve an adoring coo but fell short. Grudging acquiescence seemed to be the best she could do.

It seemed to be enough, because Matthew nodded. He grabbed his Windbreaker and went out the front door.

Angel released her breath. Some of the tenseness eased from her shoulders. Funny, Matthew was on her side but seemed like the enemy. She felt much more comfortable with Eleanor and Ruth, who she suspected would like nothing better than to get rid of her.

Angel separated utensils and stacked the plates, her motions automatic.

“At least you’re not afraid of a dirty dish,” Eleanor commented.

“I bussed tables at a Mexican restaurant in high school. Then waitressed my way through college.” She lifted the heavy stack of plates and carried them to the kitchen.

“Ruth, you can go get the children’s lessons ready while Angel and I do the dishes.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The older woman bustled past Angel, taking the stack of plates from her and placing them in the sink. She ran water, added dish soap and retrieved clean, dry towels from the kitchen drawer. She handed a towel to Angel. “Here, you dry.”

Angel resisted the urge to salute. She was beginning to understand why Matthew insisted Eleanor might have nearly as much power as his uncle.

They worked in silence for several minutes.

“Jonathon indicates your marriage to Matthew is a love match. Your parents didn’t arrange the marriage? Or church elders?”

“No. We met in Phoenix. My family lives in Houston. I’m not Mormon, but I’ve promised Matthew I will abide by the teachings of the brethren.”

“Many young women find our ways too…strict.”

Angel met Eleanor’s gaze. “I was looking for a change.”

“Hmm. How did you know Matthew was suitable if you didn’t know his family?”

“I just looked at Matthew and knew. His eyes were so deep and kind. They never lie.” Angel was shocked to realize she believed the hogwash about Matthew’s character. At least she hoped it was hogwash. Because if Matthew really was one of the good guys, she was in deep, deep trouble. Being thrown together in close quarters on an assignment was not the time to let her guard down with a man.

“He always was a kind boy. Patient with the younger children. Bringing home hurt birds. Caring for the barn cats.”

Angel tried to regain her equilibrium, steeling herself against the hint of affection in the older woman’s voice. She didn’t want to see Eleanor as a person. She didn’t want to like Matthew. Yet she had to show wifely interest in her husband’s history. “Matthew mentioned he had a pet calf named Spot.”

A smile touched briefly at Eleanor’s lips, then was gone. “Yes. He was heartbroken after Spot was slaughtered.”

“I bet.”

“It was a necessary learning experience. We needed the animal for food and Matthew was aware of that. He chose to get attached.”

“He was a little boy, for goodness sake. Of course he got attached.”

“You’re from the city. You wouldn’t understand.”

Angel bit back a retort. She dried silently until she could get her temper under control. “What was Matthew’s mother like then?”

“Abigail was a righteous woman. But she lost sight of our way of life.”

“Did you know her when she was younger?”

Eleanor glanced at her sideways. “Of course I knew Abigail. She was my older sister.”

Sister?

“Matthew didn’t mention you were sisters. You must have missed her when she left.”

Eleanor hesitated, her expression softening. “There are days when I still miss her,” she murmured. “She was my closest friend growing up.”

Angel was surprised at the admission. “I, um, got the impression there was no love lost between you two.”

“There is much you don’t understand. Things changed after Matthew’s father died.”

“Because she married Jonathon.”

“It’s not unusual for a man in our community to marry his brother’s widow. It’s a way of caring for widows that dates before Joseph Smith, back to biblical times.”

“I, um, guess that’s one way to take care of it.” Angel preferred the idea of a nice fat whole-life insurance policy.

She shuddered to think of marrying into Kent’s family if he’d had a brother. It would have been like going from the frying pan into the fire. As it was, she hadn’t seen her in-laws since before Kent’s death. They’d held the funeral for their only son while she was in the hospital, never contacting her. No get-well card, no flowers, no I’m-sorry-our-son-was-a-monster-and-almost-killed-you phone calls.

“Are you prepared to welcome a sister wife into your home when Matthew thinks it’s time?”

The soapy plate slipped from Angel’s hand. Years of experience handling dishes came to her rescue and she managed to catch it before it hit the floor.

It was a good diversionary tactic, unintentional though it was. “Whew. Glad I caught that. I’d hate to break one of your dishes my first day here.”

Eleanor made an assenting noise low in her throat.

Matthew entered the kitchen and came up behind Angel. He wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed the back of her neck.

For some silly reason, the gesture made her blush.

Maybe it was the wistfulness in Eleanor’s eyes.

Or maybe it was because the gesture of affection seemed so natural and reassuring.

“Matthew, don’t.” She made a token protest.

“Mmm. You smell good.” His breath tickled as he kissed the hollow behind her ear.

He was taking the loving-husband bit too far. She elbowed him in the gut. Not hard enough to knock the air out of him but enough to let him know to back off.

“Ow.” He rubbed his side. “Someone certainly is grumpy this morning.”

“Not grumpy. We don’t want to embarrass Aunt Eleanor.”

“I imagine she and Uncle Jonathon kissed every once in a while. Didn’t you, Aunt Eleanor?”

“It’s not seemly to discuss intimate subjects. Some things are best left in privacy. You have forgotten our ways, Matthew.”

“No, I’ve just remembered what I want to remember.” His tone was light, but Angel sensed an undercurrent.

“Jonathon will expect more than that. Complete obedience is necessary in our life. There is no place for self-centered desires.”

Angel wondered how much self-centered desires figured in with the elders taking multiple young wives.

“I apologize. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, Aunt Eleanor,” Matthew said. He released Angel and stepped back a pace. Angel was almost sorry to be deprived of his reassuring warmth.

Eleanor nodded, accepting his apology. “Go on ahead for your meeting with Jonathon. You know how he admires punctuality.”

“Yes, I remember. Are you ready, Angel?”

Angel nodded, drying her hands on the dish towel.

“Jonathon wanted to see you alone, Matthew.” Eleanor’s tone was stern.

“Anything he can say to me, he can say in front of Angel.”

“He will be displeased. He intends to take you to the elders’ meeting this morning. It is not right for a woman to be involved in men’s business.”

“Then the elders better save their business for another day. I want Angel to meet them and have a chance to talk to Uncle Jonathon. I want my wife to know my family.”

Eleanor sighed. “You always were a headstrong boy. Sweet but headstrong.”

“What do you think, Angel, dear? Does that pretty well describe me?”

Angel tilted her head, smiling in spite of herself. She couldn’t resist the opportunity to tease him. “Definitely headstrong. I’m not sure I agree with the sweet part.”

He stepped closer. “Then I guess I’ll have to show you later how sweet I can be.” The heat of his gaze left no room for misunderstanding. Either he was a very good actor or he was mentally making love to her.

The thought sent a shock through her. “Um, well, we should probably meet Uncle Jonathon.”

“Yes, I believe I saw him arrive a few moments ago.” Eleanor gazed out the kitchen window.

Angel hadn’t noticed his arrival and she’d been right by the window, too. But then again, she was beginning to believe Eleanor had almost otherworldly powers of observation. The woman didn’t seem to miss a thing.

“I’ll show you to his study.” Eleanor dried her hands on a towel, then patted her hair into place.

Angel thought it was kind of cute that the woman still cared what she looked like when her husband saw her. She also thought it was kind of sad, because Eleanor could never have the security of being Jonathon’s one and only love.

They followed her down a hallway. She stopped at a closed door and tapped. “Jonathon, Matthew’s here to see you.”

She didn’t include Angel in her announcement. Smart woman. She was going to let Matthew explain why he’d brought the little woman to a guys-only meeting.

CHAPTER SIX

MATTHEW TOOK A DEEP breath, steeling himself to see his uncle in the light of day. His hand at Angel’s elbow, he urged her forward.

Jonathon sat behind a large mahogany desk, a desk Matthew remembered from his childhood. It had been his father’s.

He suppressed a flash of anger as he followed Angel to the lone chair opposite the desk. When she glanced inquiringly at him, he nodded toward the chair. He stood behind her, resting a hand on her shoulder.

Forcing a smile, he said, “Good morning, Uncle.”

“Matthew.” His uncle inclined his head, appearing every inch the regal leader. “I didn’t anticipate you would bring your wife. I imagine Angel would be more comfortable chatting with Eleanor and Ruth this morning. You and I will be meeting with the elders later.”

Matthew chose to ignore the underlying command in Jonathon’s observation. He intended to keep Angel as close as possible until he was sure she was safe. “Angel will stay with me this morning.”

“Do you really think that wise?”

“I don’t see a problem.”

“You’ve indicated you wanted your wife to be tutored in the ways of our life. God made men and women with different strengths and weaknesses. Women are better suited to tending the home, not interfering in men’s business.”

Angel’s shoulders tensed beneath Matthew’s palm. He didn’t blame her for being angry. Unfortunately Jonathon’s thinly veiled condescension was the least of his crimes. And Matthew intended to prove it.

“Of course I want Angel to learn the proper ways. But we are newlyweds, Uncle, and I want her at my side today.”

“I was a young man once myself and remember the passion of youth. However, I’ve found self-control to be a valuable trait. You will be all the more glad to see your bride this evening. As the old saying goes, ‘Absence makes the heart grow fonder.’” Jonathon smiled, but there was a dangerous glint in his eye.

Angel shifted. Matthew knew she had to resent being discussed as if she weren’t in the room. He squeezed her shoulder. However appalling he might find his uncle’s values—or lack of them—he had a job to do. And to be effective, he had to appear to agree.

“I understand, Uncle.” He stepped forward, catching Angel’s eye. “It is my heart’s desire to spend every waking moment with you. But my uncle is right. You should join the women while the elders meet.”

Her eyes flashed a warning. Then she lowered her gaze, her voice barely audible when she said, “Yes, Matthew.”

He exhaled in relief. He’d worried she might tell him what he could do with all this crap. He reminded himself she was a professional and very good at her work.

Undercover gang assignments. A far cry from posing as a pliable Zion’s Gate wife.

He turned toward Jonathon. “It’s my fondest desire for Angel to meet my whole family. That is not possible if she secludes herself at Aunt Eleanor’s house.”

“We will hold a celebration of your homecoming after services on Sunday. There will be ample opportunity for Angel to meet everyone.”

“Good. I look forward to introducing her to my sister Rebecca. She will also be there Sunday, will she not? Or could we perhaps visit with her this evening?”

Jonathon frowned, leaning back in his chair and gazing out the small window set high in the wall.

Matthew’s heart pounded. He’d pushed too hard, too soon, possibly tipping his hand. Please, God, please let her still be alive.

“Rebecca hasn’t been feeling well, but possibly she can be persuaded to attend on Sunday.”

Matthew released a breath. She was alive and he would see her Sunday. That was all that mattered.

“AMEN,” JONATHON intoned. The closing prayer officially completed the meeting of the elders nearly four hours later. Their only break had been for lunch, cold chicken served by two of Jonathon’s wives. Matthew didn’t know the women, who appeared to be in their early twenties.

Matthew fought the urge to make a run for the door and the fresh, cool air outside. He’d almost forgotten the claustrophobic feeling of never, ever being alone.

He managed a leisurely pace as he headed for the door.

Raphael fell in beside him, clapping him on the shoulder. “Good to have you back, Matthew.”

“It’s good to see you, too, Brother.” Half brother, to be precise. Raphael’s mother had been Matthew’s father’s third wife.

“I’ll walk you back to Eleanor’s house.”

“Not necessary. I can find my way.”

“I’m sure you can. But Uncle Jonathon has indicated you are not to be wandering around unescorted.”

“He doesn’t trust me?”

“He doesn’t trust anyone. Except maybe Eleanor.”

Matthew sighed, longing for his Phoenix condo. Solitude was a luxury with the brethren, a luxury he’d grown to appreciate in his time away.

“Did you marry Theresa? You two were sweethearts as long as I can remember.”

Raphael glanced away. “No. Uncle Jonathon received a vision. Theresa is Brother Benjamin’s eighth wife.”

“Benjamin must be nearly seventy.” He couldn’t quite keep the outrage from his voice.

“Yes. But it was ordained.”

Matthew wanted to grab his brother by the shirt and shake him. God didn’t ordain that kind of marriage, man did. One very selfish, evil man.

“It’s been over twenty years since Theresa became Benjamin’s bride. I have three faithful wives of my own. It was for the best.” Raphael’s voice held a note of resignation.

“Yes, I suppose so,” Matthew muttered, the lie sticking in his throat. He didn’t suppose anything of the sort. Truth be told, he ached for his brother’s loss.

And wondered, not for the first time, if he himself was any better off for having left the brethren. Yes, he had freedom, wealth and the ability to execute decisions based on what he valued and held true, not simply what Jonathon decreed as truth. But he didn’t have a wife or family to show for it. At least not a real wife, he reflected wryly.

Maybe there was a trade-off involved. He’d won his freedom but paid a price.

The thought saddened him. Sure, he’d had relationships, but he seemed to seek out women who weren’t interested in the long term. It worked well on many levels. At least most of the time.

“Your wife is beautiful, according to Uncle Jonathon,” Raphael commented.

Matthew was disoriented for a second. “Angel. Yes, she’s very beautiful. She has a fine spirit, too.”

“I look forward to meeting her Sunday.”

“She’s at Eleanor’s. Why don’t you come in for a few minutes. We’re almost there.”

“I’ll meet her Sunday. It’s what Uncle Jonathon wants.”

Matthew shrugged. “Suit yourself. See you later.”

“Yes.”

Matthew watched Raphael walk quickly to one of the smaller houses and let himself in. He caught a glimpse of a sallow, plain woman before the door closed.

Suddenly he was very eager to see Angel. To revel in the way her dark eyes sparkled at their verbal sparring.

But the Angel who greeted him as he walked through the door bore no resemblance to the Angel he’d left that morning. Her hair was braided tightly and wound around her head. Her expression was pinched.

“Ah, Angelina, you’re a sight for sore eyes.”

“Welcome home, husband.” She clasped her hands together and stared at her feet. “May I get you a cold drink before supper?”

He almost told her he’d love a beer but remembered alcohol was strictly forbidden. Anything with caffeine was out of the question, too. “Uh, ginger ale would be good. Or a lemon-lime soda?”

She nodded and headed for the kitchen. She returned quickly and handed him a glass of ginger ale.

He sipped the drink, the sickly sweet flavor taking him back to his boyhood when he’d loved the stuff. Now it only reminded him of restricted choices and arbitrary rules.

“How was your day with the women?”

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